Page 23 of Captured in Love
Itispossible to look good in a diving suit, and both Levi and Raphaël are proof of that. They’ve obviously decided to change on the deck rather than wait for the cabin. Their suits don’t hang loose in weird places but fit them perfectly, showcasing their broad shoulders and narrow hips.
Levi smirks. “Sorry,” he says, “I did the best I could guessing your size. Will it work okay for you?”
I grumble but agree that it will. The suit isn’t too snug to obstruct blood flow or anything and it’s only baggy around my middle, where it doesn’t matter as much. “I’ll live.”
He gives me a thumbs-up and starts the boat’s engine. We cruise out from the marina, heading toward the open water. I pull out my phone and search for something that’s been worrying me ever since I realized we were going diving.
Raphaël sidles close and peers over my shoulder at my phone screen. “Sharks?” he asks. “Really? That’s what you’re worried about?”
I glower at him. “I don’t like swimming in the open sea. It’s freaky.” I scroll the page and point at a section of the text. “See? They have Greenland sharks here. They grow up to six meters long. That’s twenty feet.Twenty!”
Raphaël leans in and scrolls down. “It says here that there have been no cases of human victims. See, we’re safe.”
“Yeees,” I argue, “but that’s because very few people ever go swimming in water this cold.” I read on, then add, “These sharks often feed on seals.”
Levi laughs. “We do kind of look like seals in these suits.”
I shoot him my most threatening stare, and he quickly shuts up, though the corner of his mouth twitches.
Raphaël takes my phone from me and exits from the search engine. “I can handle a shark,” he says. “I’ll protect you.”
I blow out a breath. “Okay. Thanks. It’s just…”
I don’t know how to explain this. Somehow, worrying about sharks and other animal predators we could come up against is less scary than worrying about the crazy witches who set up this task for us.
“We’ll be okay,” Levi says. “Between the three of us, we’re as ready as we can be.” He throttles the engine and moves to the side of the boat, then throws the anchor into the churning wake. “And now it’s time. We’re here.”
I peer down into the nearly black water and swallow the lump of anxiety lodged in my throat. “Okay. Let’s get ready.”
We gear up, loading equipment into backpack-style harnesses and clipping weights to our belts. Levi straps a sheathed knife to his leg and hands me one, too. He wraps a length of nylon rope around his middle and secures it with a fancy knot. With every piece of gear, the weight becomes greater, but I know that’s actually a good thing. Once we’re in the water, it won’t feel as heavy. We tug on our caps, and Raphaël helps me tuck my stray hair in, then gives me a quick, fierce kiss on the lips. I don’t know what it means, but I cling to him a moment longer, stalling for time.
Finally, we slip on our fins and put on our masks. Levi and I adjust our airflow, monitoring it on our small wrist computers. Raphaël doesn’t attach his—the air cylinder he’s carrying is simply for backup.
I turn to the two men who have followed me all this way, and I give them the ‘okay’ sign.
Then I let gravity take over and fling myself backward into the sea.
Eight
Levi
Diving in Icelandis a completely different experience from what I’ve known so far. The water iscold. It doesn’t feel as bad at first, since we rented quality semi-dry suits, but the longer we remain under, the more it stings—especially on my face, where the cap and the rubber edge of the mask don’t quite meet. But as long as we keep moving, we’ll be fine.
The second thing that’s different is the atmosphere. Even though the water itself is very clear, the gray rocks and sand on the bottom give the impression of murkiness, even more in the rainy, cloudy weather. The visibility is great, but we still haven’t located our mark.
I swim ahead, my swim fins propelling me forward, and search the bottom for any sign of what we’re looking for. We’ve been going in circles for at least five minutes, starting wide and narrowing in on the exact coordinates. We’d agreed on a slower, more careful approach since we have no idea what the Scottish witches have prepared for us.
But I expected we would see some sort of structure by now. Something to break into with magic, a booby trap, or maybe an old wrecked ship?
Okay, so I’ve been playing all sorts of awesome scenarios in my head, and I still hope we’ll find some long-lost Viking treasure. Why else would the witches put the locationunderwater?
There’s nothing here, though, and we might be wasting our time.
I glance over my shoulder at Raphaël and Nora who have their flashlights out, the beams flicking this way and that over the rugged sea floor. They’re both wearing masks, though Raphaël’s isn’t connected to a tube of a diving regulator. It just prevents seawater from getting in his face, which I guess is annoying even to vampires.
Vampires, man.
I shake my head and focus on the task ahead instead of thinking of Raphaël. What happened earlier by that stream wasn’t planned, but it felt good. I have no idea what I’m doing with him. He and Nora love each other so much—I knew that even before she said it back in our room. She loves both of us.
